


Deeply, Thoroughly

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Ed Has Something Of A Murder Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: Oswald had nearly jumped when Ed had grabbed his forearm. The hold was firm, yet not unpleasant. Ed's eyes had found his, crinkling at the corners with more than just moonlight reflecting on the thin lenses of his glasses.The look he had given him had caused Oswald's heart to skip a beat.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	Deeply, Thoroughly

**Author's Note:**

> My humble attempt at fighting back against quarantine cabin fever while simultaneously indulging in my sudden urge to write smut. And if this helps someone get their mind off of their worries and anxieties in these trying times, even if for a few minutes, well, mission accomplished!

Later, Oswald would have been hard pressed to tell just what it was that had prompted such an unexpected, if delightful reaction.

"We don't have much choice, I'm afraid," he had been musing, referring to the obnoxious, unruly underling who had had the nerve to make a caustic remark about Ed's presence at the table during the previous gang meeting. "It's not even his first offense. Letting him get away without proper punishment would raise dangerous questions on my ability to keep my own subordinates at bay."

"I don't want to force your hand, Oswald, I understand if--" Ed had tried, but he had been promptly shushed by a curt gesture of his hand.

"Please, Ed. You're my right-hand man. My closest associate. We can't have your role questioned by people who don't have an ounce of your brains."

Ed had stopped in the middle of the narrow path forcing Oswald to turn back, cane dragging on the gravel. It had taken him a while to get the words out, granting Oswald enough time to silently congratulate with himself for having suggested they take a late-night stroll in the gardens before bed. Still dressed to the nines in his black suit and surrounded by lush peony bushes, Ed made for quite the alluring picture.

"I-- Yes, I suppose you're right."

Then, Oswald had made an off-hand comment on what a pretty picture the poor bastard would make with his eyes full of tears, grovelling at his feet to beg for the mercy he'd never receive. He had turned to Ed, asking for advice on the fastest way to break him. Should we go the old-fashioned route and rip off his fingernails, do you think? Or should we cut off his toes one by one until he starts screaming? Maybe you have better plans in store for him? Oh, I'm sure you do.

Oswald had nearly jumped when Ed had grabbed his forearm. The hold was firm, yet not unpleasant. Ed's eyes had found his, crinkling at the corners with more than just moonlight reflecting on the thin lenses of his glasses. The look he had given him had caused Oswald's heart to skip a beat.

And there they were, no more than five minutes later, stumbling through the door of the thankfully empty manor.

Ed was all over him and Oswald was chuckling against his lips at the insistence with which his dear friend was trying to steal kiss after heated kiss from him. Oswald's back went from being pressed against the door, once it was closed behind them, to being ungracefully shoved against the nearest wall after an aborted attempt at getting through the corridor that led to the main hall.

"I think we should--" he began, pressing the palm of his hand to Ed's chest in a weak-willed attempt at persuading him to step back.

"Why kill him when we can make an example of him?"

At first, Oswald's brain struggled to make sense of Ed's words. It took him a moment to reconstruct the conversation they were having before, left hanging when Ed had thought it appropriate to pull all the tricks he had up his sleeve he knew would turn Oswald’s brain into mush. He looked up at him, the dim, artificial light of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling casting shadows on his face.

"You _do_ have something in mind," he accused him playfully.

Ed didn't dismiss nor confirm his assumption, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth was enough to give him a pretty good idea of what was going on inside that that brilliant mind of his. Oswald felt himself shiver in anticipation.

Ed had been growing quite an appetite for power, lately. Not the kind of power Oswald was used to pursuing, the one that came with money, henchmen and the exhilarating knowledge of having an entire city wrapped around your finger. No, not the one that Oswald craved with every fibre of his being, but a darker shade of power and control that came with toying with someone's life, holding their fate in the palm of your hand.

"I was just thinking," Ed's grin seemed to grow larger with each word he spoke. "I think I know a couple of ways to make his life rather miserable without killing him. Yet."

"Care to share some details?"

He shook his head, clicking his tongue in mock-reproach. "Now, now, Oswald. Patience. You don’t want me to run the surprise for you, do you? The most important question now is: would you stay and watch?"

"Most certainly," Oswald answered, maybe a little too fast. There was no way for him to hide how appealing the idea of sitting back and watching Ed take care of the little punk sounded to his ears. "I wouldn't miss the show for anything in the world."

The kiss that earned him made him reconsider the importance of positive reinforcement. If it meant each time Ed would kiss him with such fervour, well, perhaps he could be persuaded to spare a lie or two about his appreciation of some of his quirks, in the future.

They never made it to the bedroom.

The tall staircase that led to the upper floor of the house, where both guest and master bedrooms were located, seemed suddenly an insurmountable obstacle. It probably was, considering how they were already tripping on each other's feet and knocking down furniture in the haze of their lust-induced high. In silent, mutual agreement they settled for the living room instead.

As the back of his knees hit the edge of a nearby couch, Ed stumbled and fell back ending up half-sprawled among the cushions. Oswald didn't wait a second more before straddling him, his bad leg not protesting too much for once.

There was a flash of something in Ed's eyes when he looked up at him. Not quite awe – something more visceral and intense. _Hunger._

"Oswald..." The name rolled off his tongue like honey, or like sweet poison which Oswald was compelled to taste. The sheer adoration dripping from the tone of his voice had to be rewarded, after all.

He leaned down to kiss him once, twice, his hand rising to stroke Ed's cheek. The already flushed skin was so warm beneath his fingertips, feverish in spite of the cool evening breeze they had enjoyed during their walk. Two kisses became four and five and then Oswald lost count. Impossible to catch his breath when Ed followed his lips each time he made to pull back, always demanding.

His hands too, roaming all over Oswald's body as if he was starving for any form of physical contact and yet couldn't bring himself to decide which part of him he'd rather caress or hold on to. Aching to touch and stroke wherever they could reach, Ed's fingers abandoned their resting place on Oswald's shoulder blades and slid down, tracing the lines of his ribs over the too many layers of Oswald's expensive suit. Layers of fabric in the way, yet Oswald shivered nonetheless. They lingered only when they reached his waist, squeezing it lightly, and Oswald made sure to let his appreciation known with a small 'yes' muttered under his breath.

Ed's hands travelled lower still, ran down the back of his thighs and _that_ had him breaking the umpteenth kiss to rest his forehead against Ed's, panting with the effort of holding back a whimper.

"So eager," he mumbled. The teasing tone he was going for was somewhat ruined by how husky and filled with unabashed desire his voice sounded.

Ed's lips brushed his throat as he spoke. " 'm afraid I can't help it."

And he was restless again. The brocade tie was hanging loosely around Oswald's neck, loose enough to cause his frustration when pawed and tugged at it a hopeless attempt at pulling him closer. Somewhat amused by his desperation, Oswald decided to indulge him. He shifted around a bit, adjusting his position so that his chest was pressed against Ed's. Ed who didn't waste a single moment before wrapping his arms around his waist, keeping him there.

Oswald kissed him again, with so much haste that he ended up accidentally knocking his glasses askew, which sent them both into a fit of unrestrained giggling until Ed cupped the back of his head and coaxed him into tilting it to the side, helping him find a better angle to carry on with it. They kissed deeper, slower this time. Lips parting to allow their tongues to meet and savour the taste of lust and desperation.

They whispered their sordid and gruesome intentions like sweet nothings in between kisses, Ed letting out such delicious moans at the mere mention of spilled blood and Oswald smiling against his lips, against his skin, when such lovely words as 'please' and 'I need you, Oswald' escaped Ed's mouth.

It was in response to Ed's teeth nipping teasingly at his bottom lip that Oswald's hips bucked almost of their own accord, leading to their still clothed erections to brush against one another. He took in a sharp breath, unable to hold back the keen that clawed its way up his throat.

"Mh, this is nice," Ed hummed against Oswald's cheek, leaving a small peck there for good measure.

"I must agree with you, my friend," Oswald said with a small chuckle.

The subtle hypocrisy of Oswald calling him a 'friend' when he was all but grinding down on him wasn't lost on Ed, who broke out into a proper laugh.

Oswald arched one eyebrow in an ostentatious display of puzzlement. "Something on your mind?"

Ed shook his head. "Forget it."

As if to help Oswald do precisely that, he rolled his hips, grinding more purposefully against him. Oh, this was even nicer. It didn't take them long to realise how convenient their current position was for relieving them both of the tension that had built and built with each brush of their lips against each other. Hands now firmly on his hips, Ed guided him into meeting his movements, in a series of short, pointed thrusts that had them letting out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Looking for purchase, Oswald placed his hands on Ed's shoulders, fingers digging in the smooth fabric of his suit jacket.

"Yes," he whispered, letting his head drop and his eyes flutter closed. "Don't stop."

The sound that Ed made in response didn't contain any words – or if it did, they were muffled and slurred enough to make them unintelligible – but for all intents and purposes it sounded very much like an "I'm not going to".

In all his inexperience and his general disinterest in carnal affairs before he met Ed, Oswald had never conceived the idea of engaging of any kind of sexual activity without removing at least a certain amount of clothes beforehand and maybe adding a soft, comfortable bed to the equation. 

Sex with your clothes still on, just shoving the offending fabric out of the way before falling in your partner's embrace, was something you encountered in alleyways and in the backrooms of the sleazy clubs he used to visit with Fish when he was still but a lowly umbrella boy. Places where sex was nothing but a transaction, a show of power rather than affection. And how foolish he had been! How come it had never occurred him just how pleasant something like this could be?

The lack of intimacy that came with skin on skin contact was made up for tenfold by the intoxicating sense of urgency in each movement, each roll of their hips, each soft gasp when they finally found an angle that was _just right._ Knowing that they desired each other so much that they hadn't even bothered to kick off their shoes before dragging each other onto the nearest surface was almost too much for his poor heart to bear. It was thrumming in his ribcage, now, with equal amounts of love and excitement.

The sounds Ed made from the back of his throat, something that resembled pleading words but not quite, only added to the arousal Oswald felt creeping up his spine, blowing goose bumps on his heated skin. His eyes must have fluttered closed, at some point, and he realised it only when he opened them again to look back at his lover in response to a particularly enticing moan. And how handsome he was, all ruffled up and blushing!

"Oh d-dear," he heard him mutter through gritted teeth.

With no other warning, Ed's body tensed under him, his hips stuttering as he desperately tried to keep rutting against Oswald. Then he stilled. The displeased huff that he let out when Oswald arched his back and attempted to rub off against his thigh told him that overstimulation had already started to set in.

Ever-obliging, Oswald sat back on his heels.

Ed blinked up at him. "You didn't...?"

The question was clear, if incomplete. Oswald shrugged. "It's alright, I can sort it out myself."

Oswald hardly had the time to reach for his belt, that Ed grabbed both of his wrists and gently pushed them aside. "No, let me--"

"Wait, no need to undress me, just...yes, that's it."

The breathless laugh he let out as Ed fumbled with his belt buckle, mumbling something he couldn't quite catch, gave way to a low-pitched moan the moment he managed to free his hard cock from the constraint of his slacks and underwear.

Ed's fingers closed around it in a tight circle. Oswald held his breath during the short pause, only to let it out in the form of a shaky sigh when Ed let his thumb run slowly along the underside. The sharp stroke that followed had Oswald almost coming undone. "Dear god, Ed!"

If he had had the presence of mind of look at his partner, he would have been greeted with the sight of him glowing with pride, delighted at how easily he could take him apart just using his hands. But Oswald's thoughts were clouded by lust and adrenaline and so much love that the only thing he could do was brace against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and squeeze his eyes shut waiting for pleasure to overcome him.

As it turned out, it took but half a dozen quick strokes and a cleverly placed flick of his wrist. The tension in his lower stomach reached its tipping point. Climax surged through him with unexpected intensity, leaving him shaking and struggling to form a coherent thought.

Ed held him through it, patiently waiting for him to come down from the high. Helped him through it, even, with soft touches and even softer words murmured close to his ear. As he slowly came back to himself, Oswald leaned forwards to kiss the damp hair sticking to Ed's forehead.

Now, Oswald would have very much liked to linger in Ed's arms a little while longer, just long enough for his brain to resume all of its functions and remind him that he _really_ needed to change his clothes and probably also take a nice, hot bath to rid himself of the sweat and the even less pleasant bodily fluids. He let his eyes flutter closed and for a single, fleeting moment he thought his wish would be granted.

Until Ed's voice broke the silence, that is.

"I've just had an excellent idea!"

Oswald's eyes snapped open to see manic excitement on his lover's face. "Ed, I don't--"

"I'll need a timer, some wire, and two cans of gasoline," Ed went on, undeterred. "Do you think I can still use the warehouse number nine, down at the docks? I mean, I could take care of him in the basement of the Lounge, but I doubt there is enough space for what I have in mind."

Still trying to catch his breath, skin flushed under his clothes, Oswald couldn't do much more than watch as Ed extricated himself from their embrace, jumped off the couch and started pacing around the room.

Oswald couldn't help but stare at him simultaneously trying to fix his clothes and rambling to himself about the supplies he would need to enact his plans, walking all the while because, as he had once told him, it helped him think. Oswald just sat there, baffled, and maybe a little exasperated too. And in love.

Deeply, thoroughly in love.


End file.
